A Day with Severus Snape
by Slytherin
Summary: I uploaded this a while ago but had to fix a very bad error. This is what a day is like to Severus Snape (IMO).


A Day With Serverus Snape  
  
  
If your reading this, there is a very high chance that you have been to school or currently attend it. You've gone through the hell of homework, you've had your share of most hated teachers. Through this time, did you ever stop to ask what the teachers must go through. If you take a logical prospective on it, students are much more imatuer than teachers; Lockhart is an exeption to this, I should add; Teachers wake up every morning to dread the thougth of teaching certain classes and look foward to the exeptional classes.  
  
We will start with a dream that had occured. To me it was a delightfull dream; although Dumbledore wouldn't be too happy knowing I enjoyed watching Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry explode in to little pieces, not leaving a trace of it's existance. But then again, it was a mere dream compiled of longlasting desires. To a child, watching a building explode would be great fun; the loud bang that would acompany it; but most of all to a child; the destructive consequences. To me it was completley different. To me watching that building go, is having the students go aswell. I struggle, day in and day out, to teach these students potions. They take the knowledge I present them with and forget it as if it were unwanted in there superior peresence. It made me feel inferior to a bunch of school children. That, is where the anger creeps in. How could they compare themselves with a teacher? They are children who should be thanking me for the information I bestow upon them each and every day. After saying this, you would understand as to why when I see this building fall, I here no exciting noise. I hear only my heart thump in pure delight.  
  
I was then woken by the first rays of sunlight pouring in. I might have classes to dread today but nothing could destroy the pleasure of watching the sun rise over the mountains. I looked around my room, to my enjoyment I found it just as I had left it. No student had tried to break in and litter the place. Would you have imagined a teacher needing to worry abour such nonsense? If not, ponder the reasoning along with me for a moment. Parents send their children to this school so that the teachers at this school manifest the knowledge they have obtained through out their years, upon these children. Unfortunatly, the children don't see learning as the gift it is, they see it as a punishment.  
  
I had gotten drest after taking my daily shower, and was now in the main hall serveying the children desperate to get to their seats and devour the breakfast without a thought about how it came to be. The elves in the kitchen slaving away just to make us happy; I of course, am unconcerned for the elves. They love working for masters without recognition. I tell you this because, I work for Dumbledore expecting recognition from the students or at least their parents; and yet I recieve none. Instead I recieve glares filled with hate. I return them wholeheartedly without allowing them the pleasure of knowing how upset I get. Instead I seek revenge; which isn't a hard thing to accomplish it being I am their teacher, therefore assigning extra work and embarassing them infront of friends and foes.  
  
My first class was a mixed class; Slytherin and Gryffindor. Even if they were well behaved; most of them, I should say; their were bad apples. Potter, Weasly and that know-it-all Granger. Most teachers would appricate a student that knew answers. But this student knew every answer. She might as well use a permanent levitation charm on her arm. Then when I refuse her the pleasure of showing off infront of the Slytherins; the glares embarc on an attemp to make me feel pity. I will do no such thing. When I refuse her when she wants to answer questions, I leave open room for another student to. After yet again refusing her to answer, I felt even worse. I have spent many years working to get to where I am now, I am now teaching children; apperantly I am mistaken. If they cannot answer simple questions, I have failed at my lifes work. Through out this particular class, I had several interuption by Niville Longbottom's exploding cauldron. For these disterbances, I had raised my voice at him; again, the Gryffindors glared at me with hate. How will Longbottom learn if I do not teach? If teaching a child the simplicity of potions means yelling at him, I will do it! How would you expect a child to learn if you do not pressure him into doing so? Again, I will mention that to children, learning is a punnishment. The cauldron exploding had not been the last of the rude actions taken part by the students. Potter and Weasly were talking, as usual, in the back hoping I wouldn't hear them. They were wrong, unfortunatly, they still don't understand that I give them detention, in the hopes of them being frightened out of talking durring class; and if I was lucky, them trying harder to pay attention.That lesson, like every lesson, included Malfoy's head far up my butt. He, like his father, thinks that being manipulative and a brown nose, will get you ahead in life. True; it may get you ahead, but it won't feel as rewarding, I doupt any of the Malfoys care if they feel good or not, just as long as they can humiliate someone their jealouse of.   
  
The rest of my classes were tolerable with the exception of the Weasly twins. They, like their younger brother, had earned themselves detention. They were trouble makers that would never learn. They were the type of student, who after many forms of discipline, would not learn from there actions.   
  
I will now skip to dinner, which I will attemp to keep short. Although I can't hear them, I know several students are taking with their friends about how much they loathe me. I accept it. If teaching students a subject that not all people are alented at means getting insulted, so be it.  
  
As I had said, dinner was short. Now for the most rewarding part of my day, going to sleep in hopes of dreaming that blissful dream of which I mention at the begining.  
  
You might be thinking this over. You might not. Either way. Someone reading this might ask:  
"If this is what being a teacher is like, why become a teacher?  
I answer this with a simple answer. It is what I enjoy doing. Giving information that I studied and enjoyed as a child is, in my own opnion, rewarding. The students might not be grateful now, but I hope that one day, they realize how I felt being a teacher and appreciate it.  
  
And so, dear readers, I bid you farewell, but before I leave you completely bored, I beg of you not to condem your teachers to multiple class dissruptions before you understand what hell they go through each and every day...  
  
~From the mind of Serverus Snape to the eyes of the reader....  
  
~The End~  
  
Well I hope you enjoyed. I wanted to say before I go that, I got this idea from my mom. After a very long time of begging her to read the Harry Potter books, she did. One of the first sentences out of her mouth after reading the first book were "Why don't they fire Snape? He's mean."  
I just wanted to metion that if you felt this fic was pointless.  



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